


You Are My Home

by orphan_account



Series: The Punk!Daddy!Derek AU [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Kid Fic, M/M, Punk Derek, Punk!Daddy!AU, Teacher Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 07:09:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loosely inspired by oakseer's post on Tumblr: "what would happen if punk au combined with daddy derek i think it would result in my body shaking apart".</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are My Home

**Author's Note:**

> I guess this would mostly be considered pre-slash since I really just wanted to focus on punk!daddy!Derek, but I'd definitely be interested in writing more on this verse if other people are interested :)
> 
> Tumblr is [here](http://lostmagicofahitchhiker.tumblr.com).

Derek has twenty minutes before he has to get Isaac to school, and they’re both covered head to toe in magic marker from the night beforehand. Derek had been sketching a flash sheet to put in his portfolio when Isaac had wandered up into the study, rubbing his tired eyes, before he asked, “What’re you doing?”

When Isaac reached out his arms, making grabby hands to be lifted up, Derek just pushed his sketchbook away from him and picked up Isaac to sit on his lap. It was way past Isaac’s bedtime, and Derek had already put him to bed three times, but some nights the kid just couldn’t sleep. Derek had taken him in only three months beforehand, rescuing him from a situation that no kid should ever be put in, but that didn’t mean he could just slack off from his parenting duties. He’d had to fight tooth and nail just to be allowed to look after Isaac in a foster situation, and if he wanted to adopt him, which he was certain he did, there was absolutely no room for mistakes.

He hated that the only thing he’d been judged on so far was the tattoos that covered his skin, particularly the Misfits’ skull tattoo at the top of his right arm and the Sex Pistols lyrics that wrapped around his left wrist. He was sure the social worker had Googled the lyrics as soon as she’d left, probably using it as evidence that Derek Hale was not fit to foster or adopt five-year-old Isaac Lahey.

 

It was for this reason that Derek couldn’t simply take Isaac to school late, because that would only justify their (false) assessment. No, he had to get Isaac there on time and he had to do it looking professional and well-adjusted even though the unfinished wolf tattoo on his forearm was looking particularly menacing in the clashing shades of purple and orange.

He wakes Isaac up, rushing him to pick out an outfit for the day, while he throws some things together for lunch. When he asks why Derek is rushing, Derek points his finger accusingly and says, “This is your fault, you had to go and be cute and choose to listen to The Clash and give yourself tattoos.”

Isaac nods solemnly, like being adorable is his curse to bear, and asks Derek how his pain is.

“What pain?” Derek asks, stilling, because whenever Isaac brings up injuries and being hurt he talks in this really small voice that Derek wishes didn’t have to exist.

“Your tattoo! When you got the wolf you said it hurt,” Isaac explains, coming up to Derek to run his fingers over the colouring.

Nodding, Derek says, “I think I’ll manage, but you might have to kiss it better for me.”

He laughs when Isaac does, grabbing onto Derek’s wrist to still his arm before he moves in and presses his lips to the skin.

Only, instead of puckering his lips, he blows a giant raspberry on the tattoo and runs away cackling like this is the best joke he’s ever pulled.

Derek laughs too, pulling his and Isaac’s bags off of the counter as he races after the kid he’s starting thinking as his own son, guiding him to the car.

That’s another thing the social worker hadn’t been happy about. When Derek had pulled up in the Camaro she’d lifted an eyebrow, saying, “Do you think that’s a suitable car for a child to ride around in?”

It’d taken close to half an hour to convince her that the car had regular maintenance and was not the “death trap” she thought it was, that he’d bought a car seat that came highly recommended and made sure that it fitted safely in the Camaro. He’d thought it was ridiculous that she was questioning him over every little detail, but a part of him was pleased as well, thankful that these little details might help prevent children from being adopted by people who weren’t going to look after them properly.

He buckles Isaac into his seat, puts the car in gear and says, “What do you want to listen to?”

Isaac grins and says, “Tegan and Sara!”

It confuses Derek for a second, because, seriously, where does this kid even find out about all of this music? But he nods his head anyway, because he’s pretty sure he has some of their stuff on his iPod and he’d listen to just about anything if it put a smile on Isaac’s face.

Isaac talks over the music on their way to the kindergarten, chattering about his teacher, and how his friends will be jealous of his tattoos. They pull up to the school halfway through Isaac explaining each of the drawings on his arm like he’s on an episode of LA Ink.

“This one means a lot to me,” he says, and Derek actually stops from where he’s attempting to unbuckle Isaac to listen to what he’s saying, “because you have the same one too.”

 

When Derek gets Isaac out of the seat, so he can look at where his kid’s pointing, he sees that Isaac’s drawn a skull and bones on his shoulder in the same place where Derek has his Misfits skull.

“Yours is a lot better than mine,” Derek says, smiling as Isaac preens himself over the compliment.

As they walk to the kindergarten, Isaac asks to go up on Derek’s shoulders and there’s no reason to say no, so he complies. He’s just about to knock on the door to Isaac’s classroom when he realises what his son is doing, the reason why his fingers are pulling on Derek’s hair.

In the reflection of the glass on the classroom’s door, he sees the faux hawk Isaac has given him and earnestly thanks him, before lifting him off of his shoulders.

He knocks on the door, not knowing whether or not it’d be rude to interrupt just by walking in even though they’re just a few minutes late.

The door is thrown open only a few seconds later, and Derek can’t help but smile when Mr. S greets him in enthusiasm, waving down at Isaac.

“Mr. S, look! Derek gave me a tattoo!” Isaac says, pushing up the sleeve of the shirt Derek had layered underneath the Ramones shirt Isaac had picked out in an attempt of covering the drawings.

Mr. S throws Derek a questioning look, one that looks eerily close to, ‘Did you really give a five-year-old a tattoo?’ before leaning in to look at what Isaac is showing him.

It’d been the only one that Derek had drawn on Isaac, but it’d taken a long time even though he’d selected the design from one of the flashes on his table.

“Little dude, that’s awesome!” Mr. S says, “but I think I like these ones better. Did Derek do these too?”

He’s running his fingers over the crooked lines that Isaac had scribbled on himself, probably with a flashlight under his blankets after Derek had put him to bed yet again. Derek is relieved that Mr. S is entertaining the idea of Isaac giving himself magic marker tattoos and not just immediately dismissing it as bad parenting. He’d been worried, admittedly, like someone would think he was encouraging Isaac to deviate into a life of crime or whatever the hell was most often associated with tattoos.

“They’re mine!” Isaac says proudly.

Noise erupts then from somewhere inside of the classroom, and Isaac peers around Mr. S curiously, like he’s only just remembering the reason they came here in the first place. Not one to want to miss out on anything, Isaac moves to grab his backpack from Derek’s hands and then pushes past his teacher, moving hurriedly to show his new ink to the kids in the room.

Derek makes a move to run a hand through his hair, before remembering his Mohawk, and drops them to his side.

He clears his throat, saying, “I’m sorry Isaac was late, I must’ve lost track of time,” as Stiles makes a move to stand up beside him.

“It’s fine,” Mr. S smiles, “I know how hard it can be getting a five-year-old on time, especially one who probably went to bed with one or two tattoos and was covered head to toe in them when you woke him up.”

Derek can’t stop himself from laughing, from asking, “How’d you know?”

“I was a lot like Isaac as a kid.”

Another noise sounds from behind Mr. S, and Derek remembers that he’s not actually supposed to still be here.

“Sorry, I should probably let you get back to it,” he gestures to the room, peering around to see the crowd that’s gathered around Isaac, “and I really am sorry we were late, Mr. S.”

“I’ve told you before, call me Stiles, and, seriously, don’t worry about it.”

**

When Derek picks Isaac up from kindergarten that afternoon, he feels guilty when he realises that the majority of the kids in the classroom are covered in poorly colour-coordinated magic marker tattoos. He has to actively stop himself from laughing by covering his mouth with hand, though, when he spots the culprit grinning with his hand in Stiles’.

“You know, I think you’ve got a little trend setter on your hands here.”

“Yeah?” Derek asks, reaching out to grab Isaac’s hand and pick him up.

“I turned my back for one minute and all of a sudden there were magic markers everywhere.”

“Shit,” Derek curses, his face making a horrified expression when he realises what he’s just said, “Crap,” Isaac giggles with Stiles following suit, and Derek can’t stop himself from glaring, “Sorry about the tattoos, and the swearing.”

Stiles waves his hand dismissively, saying, “You know, I was only offended because no one offered to draw me one.”

Derek makes a move to say something, he doesn’t know what but he figures he should maybe apologise again, when Isaac says, “Show him! Mr. S, show Derek the tattoo.”

Stiles turns his hand around, displaying what is probably supposed to be a lotus flower on the back of his hand.

“Isaac asked me what I wanted so I printed off a reference photo, I figured that a tattoo is a very serious decision to make so I had to think it out properly,” he’s grinning as he talks, and Derek can’t help but return the gesture, “they were my mom’s favourite.”

“Mr. S wants to get it done as a real tattoo!” Isaac says, then, before another look passes his face like he’s just thought of a great idea, “Derek, you should do it for him!”

Derek doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just stands there uncomfortably before adjusting Isaac where he’s perched on his hip.

“You work at a shop, right?” Stiles asks, looking uncertain, “I could come by to talk over a design?” 

Derek nods, “Definitely.”

Isaac, grinning like the mastermind he is, decides to invite Stiles over for dinner so they can talk about the design there.

Stiles says, “I don’t want to intrude,” just as Derek is explaining that Stiles probably has other things he’d like to do.

“Well, it’s settled,” Isaac says, pointing to Stiles, “You’re coming over for dinner,” he squirms around in Derek’s arms to point his finger in Derek’s face, “and you’re making dinosaur chicken!”

“I am?” Derek asks, after realizing Isaac’s talking about the dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets Isaac had shoved into the cart when they last went shopping.

“You are,” Isaac nods, confirming.

Stiles laughs, looking like he’s not too put out by being forced into coming to dinner.

**

There’s twenty minutes until Stiles is due to turn up, and Isaac’s refusing to get out of the bath because he doesn’t want to wash the shampoo out of his hair.

“But we’re matching!” He shouts, indicating to the shampoo Mohawk that graces his head.

Between the Mohawk and the Misfits tattoo that Isaac had drawn on himself, Derek realises that this kid actually really does care. He hopes it means something when the social worker comes around again and asks how Isaac’s adjusting, asks Derek to leave so she can ask Isaac some questions in private.

“If I promise that I can give you a Mohawk again, will you get out of the bath?” Derek pleads, thinking that maybe he should be trying harder to be the adult in the situation.

Isaac thinks about the question briefly, before ducking under the water in the bath to wash the shampoo out. He pulls the plug out and says, “I’m ready,” and Derek doesn’t have it in his heart to say anything about using conditioner too.

He’s using gel to turn Isaac’s hair into a Mohawk, record player spinning his Dead Kennedys record when the doorbell rings.

Isaac stands up and races down the stairs, refuting Derek’s shouts of, “Don’t open the door until I’m there, Isaac!” with, “It’s only Mr. S!”

When the door opens, Derek’s halfway down the stairs when he hears Stiles say, “Hey, I love this song.”

Isaac immediately replies with, “Me too! Derek lets me choose what we listen to.”

“Derek sounds very cool,” Stiles says.

When Derek reaches the bottom of the stairs, he can see Isaac nodding in agreement.

“Come on, where is he?” Stiles says, before looking up and meeting eyes with Derek.

And they might not know each other well, but Stiles always talks to him whenever he goes to pick up Isaac from school, and he never judged Derek on being a bad parent because of how he dressed or the car he drove, and Derek can’t help but hope that this won’t be the last time Stiles comes over for dinner. Even if they are having “dinosaur chicken”.


End file.
